In Pursuing Design
by Jolis Mots
Summary: A series of drabbles between two very opposite sides of the spectrum. Luke/Zoe
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own.

**(A/N): a series of drabbles based on an unlikely, yet so likely a pairing. Title and last line from "In Pursuing Design" by VersaEmerge.**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

It began when he was fourteen. That much he could say. The rest between that was up to her.

Though, in this beginning, Zoë hated every piece of him, every cell in his body, every thought in his mind, every word he said, she absolutely detested. Sure, she hated men. But there was something about this clever _boy _that made her hatred into something bigger. Whatever it was, she was not aware of at the time.

No, she was too busy with the Hunt. Too busy serving her goddess and too busy being stuck on the tears and pain of the past to think of anything but lowly of Luke Castellan.

She had warned the other one. Thalia—that this boy would betray her. Why she said it, she was not sure. Something just told her that one day, he would become someone that would need drastic saving if they ever wanted to make things right again.

Zoë remembered the way his eyes glowed with disdain when those words escaped her lips. _He will betray you_. He wasn't the son of Hades or Zeus or Poseidon—or even Ares for that matter. Just another thief—another cunning boy that had no use to him but his ability to take. Take and never give. But something about him radiated power, intelligence.

Until her last breath, she really wished she was wrong.

* * *

It would be vastly precise to say that Luke had had feelings for Annabeth. Although these feelings were not very prevalent until she had matured, and by then it was too late, they were there nevertheless.

In a way, Annabeth reminded him a lot of Zoë. And, from what he gathered that fateful time at Mount Othrys, Annabeth Chase had weighed the options of joining Artemis's Hunt as well. But there was a keen difference between the two that Luke could see even with his young eyes.

Where Annabeth doubted, Zoë knew. Love, for instance. Over the years, he could see the way Annabeth was on the topic. In and out, all over the place, never really securing the idea to her wits—unlike everything else in the world. The girl could commit to the memory the most advanced mathematics, the most intricate clue, but she doubted such a thing like love sometimes, he could tell.

But Zoë on the other hand knew love. She knew it like the back of her hand, like the constellations in the sky, like the arch of her bow. This was why she vowed to Artemis in the first place. She knew love. Knew the keen sting, the endless hurt of being stabbed in the back by the ones you care about. She knew love so much it hurt.

He believed that without a doubt.

* * *

_brief: take a chance, hope high, do not let life pass you by------------------------------------------------------------_


	2. Part One

**(A/N): These won't be in order. Or even correlating for that matter. They are my random collection of Luke/Zoe ideas. Enjoy! **

**Takes place between after Luke gets his scar and before he decides to go the Titan's side.**

* * *

Words and Hands Leave Burns

* * *

_She expected to be alone that night. It was bad enough she was at that horrible camp in the first place. And he had to arrive and make the experience all the more memorable. Sometimes, she still feels the burns on her wrist. The bastard._

* * *

Zoë sits by the hearth alone, grazing her left hand absentmindedly over the surface of the flames, feeling the warms, the flicker, and not feeling a single burn.

Until someone speaks.

"I remember you," he says, standing over her, like he's _better_. Which he isn't. "Zoë Nightshade. You're quite a legend."

She takes a good look at him. Sees the flaxen hair, blue eyes. There's a scar on his face and he is much older now, but she knows who he is. _Luke Castellan, Son of Hermes_."Thou—the vagrant traveling with Zeus' child." She says it like a calculated fact. To her, he is simply that. Just a figment of what just happens to be. Nothing more.

He doesn't seem hurt by this, and somehow, that bothers her. Instead, he sits down next to her (much to her distaste—utter, _utter_ distaste), keeping his eyes on Hestia's flame. "Vagrant, huh?"

"That's what all men are," she says with finality.

"All men?" his face is blank, still on the fire.

"Especially thy self," she adds bitterly. "But yes. All men."

He shook his head. _How dare he shake his head_. Stares at the gravel, grinning to himself like he knows something she doesn't. The _nerve_—

"Then you're not as wise as they make you out to be," he says as-a-matter-factly.

"_They_?" she ask incredulously. "_They_? Why dost thou even speak to me—"

"_You_," he says smugly. "Use you."

"_You—_" she glares at him "_You _insufferable _boy_."

From her words, she can see it. The flicker of annoyance and anger in his face. He's one of those males that hate being downsized to a child. _Egotistic animals._

Zoë gets up from the ground and was about to stomp away—back to the Artemis cabin, ready to leave this barely endurable "camp". Why Lady Artemis had thought the Hunt should stay here while she was busy with things in Olympus was beyond her. She'd take sleeping in the woods, surrounded by monsters, _any day _over this place.

But what happens next changes everything.

She's about to go, to march away and leave this horrible boy by himself but she can't because she finds that he has taken a hold of her wrist.

Zoë turned briskly around, eyes full of rage and disbelief.

"Don't touch me," she orders harshly. It's a low, hushed harsh, she's not screaming at him. She's so close to turning him into a rabbit or rat but doesn't. Keeps her calm, keeps her ground. _He_ won't be the cause of her letting control of herself. No. She was better than that.

His hand around her wrist like chains. "_Don't touch me_—filthy—"

"Tell me," he hissed, "why you told Thalia I would let her down."

She glowers at him coldly.

"_Tell me_," Luke repeats, his hold on her getting tighter. But it's not enough to hurt. No. She'd never let him hurt her. "_Is it because I'm merely a man? Or is it because_ _you saw something?_"

Despite herself, she can feel a smirk grace her lips. So this is what he had come down here for. He was afraid. It was only a few years ago when the Hunt had tried recruiting Thalia Grace. Warning her of the dangers of trusting the boy she was travelling with. And now here he was, holding her until she answered him. _If it's an answer he wants—_

"I didn't need to _see _anything," she spat. "Anything else but _you_. The kind of person thou est. Naïve and full of anger," she inches closer to his face. "Thou est a poison."

He's glaring so hard, it almost frightens her. But she's not scared of him, although she knows she should be. She keeps her voice controlled,, but doesn't leave out a single drop loathing in it. "_And you'll let everyone down_."

By now, his grip on her wrist was so rigid, she feared he might break it. She never thought a mortal could hurt her so much.

She knows he most likely wants to kill her right now. She knows her words got to him, and she's expecting him to snap her wrist and take out his sword and stab her. She's expecting him to hit her, insult her. _Witch._ She's expecting him to curse at her and tell her she's wrong.

But he doesn't do any of the above. Nothing.

Instead, what she sees in his blue eyes was more terrifying.

Acceptance.

He releases her wrist with a sharp opening of his hand and stares at her as though what she had told him was as hurtful as a fly. As passing as a breeze. There's calmness around him that she was not sure was genuine or not.

"I see." He looks her up and down and suddenly she feels very uncomfortable. "Very well," he turns to leave, heading back to the Hermes cabin, before he looks at her one last time.

"Goodnight, Zoë Nightshade," he says, like old friends (is there a hint of a smirk?). "I hope you enjoy your stay."

In his retreat, she is frozen next to the flames. Stunned into nothing. Feeling nothing from the flicker of the fire. Holds her wrist at the burns left around it. And she's starting to think that perhaps—and this is a very wide perhaps—men have souls too.

How enlightening.


	3. Part Two

**(A/N): about Zoë talking more old fashioned than she did: for that particular drabble, I thought more of old fashioned suited her in that situation. But that's just me. Haha. And thank you everyone who reviewed. Having _any _reviews on this rare ship is very appreciated. If I could just make one more zuke shipper, that's good enough for me!**

**Slight AU. If Zoë had to chance to off Luke before he went to the River. (hmm?)**

**Title from "Gone With the Gullotine" by the Higher**

* * *

To Keep Your Neck Exposed (_as i shoot an arrow through your throat_)

* * *

_Zoë had the chance to end everything. Something just couldn't bring her to follow through, when it all came down to it. What's it called? Love? It's life's oldest, dirtiest trick. And she hasn't fallen for it in years. So many things change._

* * *

She was fine—fine the way she was before _he _happened.

And that's exactly how this goes. He just _happens_ to her, a sudden swipe of some figurative sharp blade and it leaves a scar on her sleeve where her heart's supposed to be—a reminder that love conquers nothing. Nothing.

She has her bow at the ready, a noxious arrow inches from his neck. They're alone and no one's here to witness his undoing.

_(Or maybe it'll be hers.)_

He's unarmed, vulnerable and leering at her with such severity that she's beginning to doubt everything all over.

"_Do it."_

Momentary pause and she feels suspended. He's telling her. Daring her. She could kill him now before he goes to become the indomitable. Before he can go and be some vengeful titan's puppet suit. If she could just have _let go_ of the arrow and let it fly, let it end the famous Luke Castellan once and for all.

If only.

"_Do it. Get it over with."_

The way he says it, she already can tell she's going to lose.

Remembers how once he said he loved her and how he believed he was making this world a better place, how he was fighting for a better cause—how he said he'll never, ever hurt her. _He hasn't hurt you, but he's hurt so many others. Let it go, let go, let go. _

Feels the feather fletching of the arrow against her fingers, which are holding tight onto the grip of her bow.

But she makes the mistake of looking him in the eyes. Sees all her feelings of pure hate and love and lust and a lot of unknown trembling things in between. And the world around her falls apart again. All in his eyes.

And in that instant, she positively_ knows_ she could never let go.

Receding her arrow, his expression becomes something she cannot read. Steps forward, he kisses her forehead. _"Everything will be better this way. You did the right thing. Believe me." _

She wants to. But at the moment, she couldn't even believe herself._  
_


	4. Part Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own.**

**(A/N): *laughs* enjoy luke's random teenage hormones. PS: sorry it's been a while. it was finals and then it was projects and then it was just life from then on. this is my first free weekend in a while. **

**thank you for the reviews! and all those who have reviewed more than once (you know who you are) you're awesome. like this ship.**

* * *

Virtue

* * *

_And I know she loved me then.  
I swear to God she did.  
It was the way she'd bite my lower lip  
And push her hips against my hips  
And dig her nails so deep into my skin._

-"Album of the Year" the Good Life

* * *

Eighteen to nineteen. By law, he's an adult, and by years, he is a teenager still.

It's been a year or so since the Hunters last visited camp. He sees Zoë sometimes. She remembers, Luke can tell.

He can see it in every avoided gaze, every accidental brush against her arm, every time he has to meet her eyes in competition or combat.

In the back of his mind, in the depths of his youthful impulses, he remembers her smooth skin underneath not so many clothes. The smell of her hair and the way she'd say—no—_moan_ his name when she was underneath him. The warm, rushed feeling of her tongue down his throat and his hands on her hips. The motion of her eyes closing and her lips against his.

Pledge against boys his ass.

It's evident in the way the blood rushes to her face every time she meets his gaze. He knows she knows exactly the images that are replaying in his head.

He could scoff every time those Hunter girls brag about their virtues.

_She _wasn't so virtuous that last time she'd been here. And he makes sure that, so long as she's here, she remembers when she practically fastened herself to him a few nights in a row when all her precious _sisters _were fast asleep.

And with the way her body freezes whenever he's around, he knows that she absolutely, without a doubt remembers.

Gods knows _he_ does.

_But is it tearing away at him? _He feels it as she shoves past him, ardent, cold.

_No, not at all._

He's good at lying to himself.


	5. Part Four

**Disclaimer: NO OWN.**

**Oh my goodness! it's been so long. Sorry for keeping you waiting! And thank you so much for your reviews! (especially the ones that said you are zuke shippers now:) **

**These two were so addicting that I just had to update.**

**

* * *

**

Dog Days

* * *

She promised herself she'd never ever let this happen again. She wouldn't give in, wouldn't let herself fall in _love_. So since when did she become so vulnerable? (But, oh wait, doesn't Luke _excel_ in persuasion?)

_Don't you trust me? _he said once.

(In the near future, she'll shiver and curse at herself for answering yes). But at the present, he's all blue eyes and golden hair and _perfect_—so much so that she feels like this is a dream and she's _terrified _of waking up. (To find herself alone again, you see?)

Here they were, on some hill behind trees. Hidden. Just staring at the sky. A millions times before has she seen the cloudy canvas—many counts in her many lifetimes. The grass itches against her skin and it doesn't hurt nearly as much as being stabbed in the back-which is what usually happens when she's near a man, so for this small comfort, she's thankful.

They're laughing at something. She can't even remember what. (And it doesn't even matter). Their bodies are facing opposite poles as they lay on the ground, their heads resting beside the other, eyes gazing at sideways faces, both eyes having seen so much for their young bodies. It's one of those picture perfect moments that _no one_ ever experiences. Love is too ideal to be true, yet she finds herself falling anyways.

He rolls up, looms over her as he puts his weight on his elbow. Kisses her forehead, neck, lips. His hand moving the hair out of her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he'll say melodiously in her ear. It's low and whispered and she feels a strange dizziness in her head that tells her this is a good thing. With a voice like that, he could get any girl.

"I know," she'll answer.

Maybe tomorrow or some day soon, she'll come to her senses. But right now, she'll choose ignorance for once and believe him. Right now's too perfect to ruin with the imminent truth. (And, really-what's Zoë to refuse when it's the first time she's felt happiness in eons?)

The moments they have only last as long as they're named. Soon, the Hunters will be near (and she knows somewhere, perhaps, Aphrodite is smirking herself stupid, holding a secret from Artemis) and she'll have to wake up soon before the dream is even over. It'll hurt more than any battle wound and she'll probably end up hating Luke for that even more which would most likely just make her love him more instead because-wait a minute-didn't she start off hating him in the first place? Now look where it's taken her.

"I love you," he says.

And now she's close to tears. In her head, her mind is fighting against her. _You're a hunter, a virgin, sworn to celibacy and to Artemis and the Hunt. You hate men, you don't believe in love. What are you doing?_

What _was _she doing?

"I love you, too."

Oh, it's all a big mess.


	6. Part Five

**(A/N): Hello guys! I know it's been so long, but it was my senior year of high school and everything was just so busy! Now it's winter break (first winter break of college!) and I decided to check up on my fanfics again :P Have ya'll read Son of Neptune? :O haha**

**I do hope that with every chapter, a new Zuke shipper is converted :)  
**

* * *

Even If You're Not Sorry

* * *

_She prays for him. Just because he's given up on himself doesn't mean she has.  
_

* * *

"Did thou not even think of the consequences? That thy actions would lead to this?" she keeps her voice low and attempts at sounding unaffected. But the sadness is there all the same. "Is this worth it, Luke?"

It's one of the rare times she'll say his name.

"I'm not doing this for evil. You know that. I'm not doing this because I don't believe in good, Zo."

The huntress shuts her eyes tight, as if she'll find the answers in the darkness behind her eyelids. "Then _why_?"

"Because. Because they're wrong. Their ways are wrong. Their rules are wrong." He touches the scar on his face lightly. "I shouldn't have to do this to get attention from my own father."

Zoë finds it a bit strange how calm the atmosphere is around him despite her questions and opposing viewpoint. It scares her more that he's so nonchalant about his position now. He's passionate, still, of course, for his cause. It's just that he doesn't get angry at the need to explain himself anymore. Maybe he already knows he's going to lose. Maybe he, beneath his plotting and power and anger, he doesn't even care.

It was never about winning to Luke, anyhow. And Zoë knows this even if he won't say it. No, it was always about something else-about right, about change, about love. Luke Castellan was just another scorned boy from a long history of lonely children with untouchable parents.

She finds herself in his arms soon enough. But they're Zoë Nightshade and Luke Castellan which means these points in time don't last very long.

"I must go. The Hunters." It's a forced statement. She really doesn't want to let him go but there are more important choices to make in this stage of their lives.

He doesn't protest, just holds her a bit longer before they part ways. "I'll see thou again, of course," she says as she pulls away. When she says the next part, she makes sure she looks him square in the eyes. "Either with my bow drawn or not." A promise because duty always comes first.

He kisses her forehead. "I look forward to it."

They both have already started walking away when she stops in her tracks and spins around to call out to him. "Stay true to thyself, Luke, thy soul. Despite all thy wrongs, I still hold hope that thou will do the right thing. In the end."

He laughs like it's a joke that's run it's course. "Sorry, Zo. I think it's too late for me and my soul." Without another word or backward glance, he goes on his way. It's a sight she doesn't want to get used to because with each meeting, she thinks she loves him more and to watch him walk away is just another reminder of who they are and where. Anyway, it's obvious he's slipping further away from the person he was each second he continues on this path of his. She asks the gods to look out for him though, all the same. There's only so much hope she has left and she's going to use it on him.

"Every soul can be saved," she whispers to herself and maybe even to the gods. "Even one as broken as yours, Son of Hermes."

Zoë Nightshade looks to the sky before she joins her sisters once again.

* * *

**thank you to all my reviewers and readers.**


End file.
